Luckless
by 100aces
Summary: Lana Stebbins wants to get better. But being bad can feel so good.


Some people have all the bloody luck.

Take Lily Evans, for instance. She's obviously gorgeous, she's dead smart, and she's got twice any Ravenclaw's wit. Not to mention that at this very moment, she's leaning happily back against James Potter's chest while he strokes her hair with one hand, and stirs sugar into a cup of tea with the other. They look so happy and domestic I'd like to slap them.

Instead, I turn back to the Hufflepuff table, and reach for a slice of quiche without much gusto. Generally speaking, food makes me happier than anything in the world. But after watching James and Lily's love-fest, it's hard to be enthusiastic about anything.

I remember what it's like to lean back against someone's chest like that. It's a nice feeling, like you could let go and go completely limp but he'd still be there, holding you up. Sometimes I miss that feeling like hell.

Almost subconsciously, I look around at the Gryffindor table again. This time, my eyes brush over the Siamese twins and land on the back of Sirius' head.

_Look at me. Look at me._

I hold my breath until he looks up – and when he does, he shoots me a wry smile, letting me know he's feeling exactly the same way. Sirius is James' best mate, and he's happy that James has finally managed to convince Lily that he isn't an arrogant twat. Still, it's hard to see someone else being so happy when every relationship you've been in has left you feeling lonelier than you were in the first place.

We stare at each other, and something intensifies. The smile slides away from Sirius' face, and he raises his eyebrows, tilting his head almost imperceptibly to the left. I know what he means immediately, and I can feel myself blushing as I turn back to my food.

Several minutes later we're in a broom closet in the most remote corridor of the dungeons - _our _broom closet, the place where we meet. And he's inside me and it's fantastic and the handle of a mop is digging into the small of my back but I could hardly care less. He's so close, as close as it gets, and his skin is so warm and I can feel his breath on my neck and for some reason I'm starting to cry.

It takes him a minute to notice. When he does, he backs off.

"What's wrong? Does it hurt?"

I shake my head.

"Is it…" Sirius frowns. "Is it him?"

It isn't – at least it isn't completely – but I nod, because I don't know what else to do. The truth is that I don't have a simple explanation. I don't know why I suddenly burst into tears in the middle of a good shag.

But I'm rewarded for my lie. Sirius's hand reaches through the darkness and finds mine. He hooks his little finger around mine, and it's not quite holding hands, but it's definitely nice.

"I'm not him."

I try not to smirk. For all that rhyming garbage the Sorting Hat spews about Hufflepuffs being earnest and sincere, I've become terribly cynical.

"I know you're not." I say. My voice is so thin that I hardly believe myself.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. He nods, and looks gallantly away while I wipe the phlegm and tears off my face. I take the moment to really look at him.

There's no doubt that he's attractive, in an austere sort of way. Perfect hair, moody gray eyes, cameo features that are almost always contorted into a bored scowl. He's quite tall, and quite good at sex. I know quite a few girls who'd do just about anything for his attention.

The trouble is that he doesn't really care about anything.

He looks back at me and I know he's trying to guess what I'm thinking. I don't want to be examined this way, so I kiss him. Within seconds the whole crying episode (which is only one of many) has been forgotten. I'm pressed back against the wall and Sirius' mouth is all over my neck. It isn't long before he's inside of me again, his body slapping against mine as he pushes in farther, farther, harder.

This all started over the summer. Sirius bought a flat in London to get away from his parents, and I live in the city with my uncle. One day I walked into a Muggle coffee shop, and found myself face to face with Sirius Black, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, looking completely out of context.

We had never really spoken before. Even back when I had friends, they were all timid but sweet girls who wouldn't dare touch Sirius with a ten-foot-pole. But we got to talking easily, and I ended up spending the night in his apartment. I found out later than he had recently broken up with his girlfriend of six months, a pretty blonde girl whose parents shipped her off to Beauxbatons for school.

Sirius' body tenses. A few minutes later we're shuffling around in the broom cupboard, putting on our robes.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I reach for the door. It's late and I have morning classes tomorrow. But Sirius stops me, coming up behind me and putting his hand over mine on the door handle.

"You okay?" he asks gruffly.

"I'm always okay."


End file.
